


You Set Up Your Place In My Thoughts, Moved In And Made My Thinking Crowded (I've Always Wanted to Do it In The HQ70s)

by justalittlegreen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bill Is Tall, Butt Plugs, Comeplay, Deal With It, Fluff and Smut, Hanbrough, M/M, Mike's going to want a mold of Bill's cock, Online Dating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Smut, fantasies, they're basically on grindr ok?, this is a headcanon I have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: Mike's been texting with some dude named Bill he met on Grindr for a couple of weeks to combat the stress of library school. And this Bill dude? He's a REALLY good writer.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueerOnTilMorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/gifts).



Mike has a standard rotation of photos - in different sets of boxer briefs, different lighting, different days. But after awhile, it was way more economical to not have to stop what he was doing and get yet another shot of a hastily-procured bulge. The grindr dudes appreciate the immediacy, and he almost feels like it's cheating, but he can't deny that it works.

Why Bill makes him want to stop everything and pose is another story entirely.

He studies his fingers carefully, turning them in the window light, trying to catch them at their glistening filthiest. There - a tiny bubble near the knuckle of his middle finger. Mike smiles, snaps, and sends.

 **Holy shit** Bill replies almost immediately. **I would call you right fucking now and tell you how much I want to do exactly that to other parts of you, but I'm not great on the phone. I'm not sure I could speak right now if I tried.**

Mike chuckles. **Aw, shy?** he types one handed.

There's a long pause as Bill types. **Kinda** he finally says.

*

Two weeks later, he's watching the fucking Ellen Show, of all things, and he's not paying much attention until her guest walks out. After a few minutes, it clicks into place. The above-average quality texting. The not wanting to talk on the phone. The references to horror novel tropes. Bill - HIS Bill - is beach-read superstar Bill FUCKING Denbrough.

Mike googles him immediately, finds a photo of his last reading: Bill, seated on a high stool, his hand raised to gesture, mouth open, reading something emphatic. He imagines sliding his cock into that open mouth. Wants to hear him choking on it, muffled moans and grunts.

Bill FUCKING Denbrough.

Mike scrolls through the google image results - news coverage, jacket photos, headshots, the occasional movie opening - and finally comes at the sight of Bill smirking amicably toward the camera.

He takes a shot of his come-covered palm out of habit. Why waste it? But the one he takes of himself licking it is only going to one person.

 **Dude,** Mike says, ** **How could I not know your books? I'm in fucking LIBRARY school.****

 ** **I didn't think I was highbrow enough to be on a LIBRARY SCIENCE radar**** comes the reply.

****Oh, whatever. The fact that I've read four of your novels is not enough to warrant expulsion from my program.** **

****four?!** **

Mike sighs. ****Listen, there's not a whole lot you can find in an airport that so perfectly accompanies bad drinks and stale paninis.****

****I'm flattered. Jackass.** **

****Ooooh, keep talking dirty to me.** **

****I'm going to make you read my own novel out loud to me while I ream your ass.** **

Mike actually chokes on his smoothie trying to laugh and gasp at the same time.

****Which one?** **

****I don't fucking care. Now I'm thinking about your ass, and your nose pressed into the pages. I'm thinking about making you defile a book and it makes me want to find you in your library after hours.** **

****Fuck me in the stacks, Daddy? Listen, if you can find the HQ70s, you can have me there.** **

****I don't just want you in the stacks.** **

Mike holds his breath.

****I want you over the fucking circulation desk.** **

Mike _squirms_ at that thought, his breath echoing in the cavernous center of the dark library as Bill (FUCKING) Denbrough fucks him well. Maybe a hand on the back of his neck, pressing his cheek into the desk.

 **I love that thought** he says simply.

 **Yeah?** He can practically hear the note of worry and second-guessing creep into Bill's text.

****Fuck yeah** **

****I want to walk in the next day and not be able to look at it. Get all hot and hard just remembering it.** **

****That sounds terribly inconvenient** **

****Inconvenient is the least of what I'd suffer for you, Big Bill.** **

****Nice nickname.** **

****Probably accurate though.** **

****Oh? And how would you know?** **

****Proportions. Do you know how many fan sites you have? Does it shock you that there are people who've devoted procrastinatory hours to the question?** **

****I. that. no?!?!!?** **

****http://fanbroughs.com/measurementsandmusings** **

****I don't even want to click on that.** **

****Rather show me in person?** **

****I don't even know if I'd let you look.** **

Mike closes his eyes and lets the heat spread pleasantly through his belly until his phone buzzes in his hand.

****I might make you guess. Based on how it feels.** **

The fantasy blooms in Mike's head - still bent over the desk, but this time, slick fingers pushing, probing, stretching. He's clenching without even realizing it, trying to imagine his way into a sensation of Bill's cock, hard and blunt, stretching him open.

 **I need your cock right fucking now** he says before he can stop himself.

 **What're you waiting for?** Bill replies. **The one you showed me last week is close enough.**

Mike checks the time. **I'm going to be late for my shift** he says, already considering calling out.

****I don't want you to be late!!!!! Do you want to stop?** **

****Never** **

****Well then...how do you feel about a plug?** **

Mike considers the realities. He's never had something inside him for more than an hour, and this would be an entire shift.

****Fun as it would be, I think it'd have to be small** **

****Small is fine** **

Mike feels a protest coming on, and then Bill adds,

****It just matters that you have something inside you. I want you to feel it. And then maybe later, I'll tell you about how badly I want to suck you off while your ass is full of my come.** **

**Please** Mike begs. **Fucking please. promise me you'll do that later.**

****Of course, baby. I keep my promises.** **


	2. Chapter 2

It surprises him that Bill - the quiet writer with the stutter - cannot keep his mouth shut in bed. His stutter eases, too, letting loose an easy stream of filth that only a writer could throw at him.

"So fucking loose," Bill says as Mike gasps, arms flung over his head, mouth open. "Like you were waiting for me, weren't you? You couldn't let yourself be empty, could you. You had to be full. You had to be stretched. You had to, didn't you?"

"Guilty - as - charged," Mike pants, a smile shaping his open mouth.

"Which one did you use?" Bill asks.

"Black one," Mike says. "Big. Like you."

"You like that, don't you?" Bill says, leaning down to suck at the sweet spot between Mike's neck and shoulder. Mike groans, trying futilely to lift his hips up, take Bill in even deeper. 

"Fill me up," he whispers, daring his voice not to crack. "Give it to me, c'mon."

"Ask nicely," Bill growls into his neck.

"Please," Mike blurts out. "Want you."

Bill takes pity on him, knowing how hard it is for him to talk when he's this far gone. "How do you want me, baby?" he murmurs. "Stuffed and plugged, stretched and full of my come?" 

This time, Mike does whimper, and there's no hiding it.

"Or," Bill says, trailing off like he's musing. 

"What? What!" 

"What if I didn't?" Bill pauses. "What if I..." he gets Mike's nipple in a broad pinch, pulling it slowly in a way that sends sparks down his stomach, "just made you take it? And left you like that? Told you to go make me a cup of coffee so I could watch you struggle to keep from dripping all over the floor?"

Mike feels a sweeping heat that starts below his cock and blazes up through his belly, a muffled, "Fuck!" making its way through gritted teeth. Bill's mouth is filthier than his own head and he loves it, imagines standing naked at the counter, ass clenched and tense as Bill stands behind him stroking him off, daring him to let go.

Fuck, he could have that.

"Please," Mike begs, at a loss for anything else as Bill speeds up, hips pounding, urgent, deep. 

"That's right," he says. "I'm gonna fill you all up, Mikey - you're gonna feel it for days, keep you slick and ready to go again, oh fuck, fuck - "

Mike clings with every limb as Bill comes apart, kissing him hard, desperate and hungry, his mouth all copper and salt.

Mike winces as Bill pulls out. He tries to clench down and can tell it's not enough. Bill notices, presses his fingers to Mike's hole, not quite plugging him.

"Need some help, baby?" he asks. Mike can't even speak, the dirtiness of it all beyond what he'll allow himself to say. Bill slips two fingers inside him like it's nothing, holds him, palm cupped against him. "It's okay to need some help," he says, and his voice is so soothing, so gentle in its explanation that Mike's brain short-circuits trying to reconcile it with the content. "You're just too fucked out to hold it, aren't you?"

Mike Hanscom does not cry, generally. But there has to be a word for what happens when Bill says things that make his chest shake and his throat tighten.

"It's okay," Bill's still saying. "I don't mind." He scissors his fingers and Mike twitches. "We can plug you up all night if you need it, baby."

Mike moans at that, clenching around Bill's fingers and reaching for his cock. "You keep talking like that," he says, stroking slow and firm, "and I'm not responsible for what happens next."

Bill laughs, a surprised and happy sound. "I'm pretty sure I'm responsible for what happens next," he chortles. "But just in case...I'm gonna take my fingers out now, okay?" He whispers it like a threat. Mike nods. It's easier now, as he clamps down, not really feeling it, but the image of Bill's come inside him makes him throb.

In his head, Bill touches him. teases him. Strokes him off slowly. He's so lost in the fantasy he doesn't even notice until he feels Bill shift around on the bed, and then his mouth, warm and wet and enough tongue to make Mike's eyes roll back in his head.

Mike loves this - having his ass full (of something, anything) and his cock sucked, a complete circuit. He lifts his head just enough to see Bill staring up at him, lips stretched obscenely, shining and red. Bill reaches up towards his chest, fingers sticky and Mike doesn't even care. He flops back down as Bill pulls and pinches, closes his eyes and tries to take it all in.

He's so close, thrusting up a little at a time into Bill's mouth and it's so fucking hot, the way Bill just takes and takes, Mike's cock disappearing into his mouth as easily as it disappears in Bill's giant hands. He's always gotten off on it - he's not a small man, but Bill is...oversized. He loves how easily Bill takes him, takes him over.

He reaches down, taps Bill's head twice, feeling the oncoming surge, not wanting to worry about Bill choking. Bill lifts his head and immediately takes over with his hand, flying over the skin of Mike's cock in a blur.

"Come for me, Mikey," he's saying. "Let it all go, let me see you undone, let me see you a total fucking mess, I want you streaked in your own come and soaking in mine, damnit."

**Author's Note:**

> If you can identify the fact that the title is a direct quote from something - 10 points  
> If you know what the HQ70s are - 5 points  
> If you recognized the title quote on sight - 100 points, let's be friends


End file.
